


Close Call

by Cherry_Red_Ink



Series: Darts and Blasters and Flamethrowers, oh my! [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2232411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Red_Ink/pseuds/Cherry_Red_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being saved by a bounty hunter, Oren Warden happens to come across her and her crew. To be fair, though, he really didn't know..</p><p>Spoilers for Hutta Missions. Implied relationship between Torian & F!Bounty Hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Call

To be fair, Oren didn’t know who exactly she was when he planned to approach her, nor did he, as a matter of fact, know who exactly the man sitting next to him was, with whom he had been sharing a drink. Otherwise, he might have watched his mouth more instead of the woman.

Alright, he did know the man was a formerly disgraced Mando’ad named Torian Cadera and that he’d redeemed himself in the eyes of Mandalore and therewith of all Mando’ade so he’d made it a point to treat the blond to a glass of decent ale and share some battle stories. 

And alright, he did know that _she_ was the woman who had pretty much cleared out Fa’athra’s palace with only two blasters and a smile because he had been there (albeit blind), Burnok had gone through the trouble of describing the carnage in vivid detail and had pointed her out to him just now as she was scoffing at some pansy in a frilly suit bearing a ridiculously colorful and bubbly concoction in his hands and believing he stood a chance of getting into her greaves for some reason. But that was all who she was to him: the (curvy) bounty hunter that had prematurely awoken him from his carbonite induced slumber, ended his unwilling tenure as a wall decoration and shot up Huttese palaces for fun. 

And damn, wouldn’t he have liked to see that because she made durasteel look fine. He’d imagined that bright red hair, those piercing blue eyes and the set of full lips when Burnok had told him about his rescuer and the promise to take her out for drinks. And now that he saw her, he could imagine a whole lot more because reality was always better than anything his mind could have conjured and it almost consoled him for having missed out on checking her out the first time they had met.

That doesn’t explain how his brethren – Torian – had gone from bemusedly listening to Burnok’s story and sipping his beer to staring down Oren with a look that was terrifying enough for the other man to _wish_ it would simply kill him and be done with it while the other man’s companion, a one-horned Devaronian named Gault choked on his Corellian whiskey. 

“Meg gar sirbur?“ Torian growled - ( _What did you say?_ ) – in a Tone that very much suggested he had perfectly understood, was none too pleased about it and was generously giving Oren a chance to correct himself instead of being pummeled into the ground without a second thought. The sheer intensity of that Tone (capitalization well deserved) was puzzling and in combination with the expression on the other man’s face gave Oren pause. For a moment, he considered the proffered way out – namely pretending he hadn’t been thinking straight and wasn’t aware of what exactly he’d said to avoid a confrontation with Torian – before deciding it was cowardly and straightening himself. 

“I said, if she were worthy of a Mando’ad, I’d-“ 

“My friend, before you continue with this rather impressive display of lacking survival instincts”, Gault cut in, “allow me to point a few things out to you. First of all, the bounty hunter in question – never would I dare call her a lady lest she’ll feel inclined break off my other horn – captains the ship that brought Torian and myself here and she also happens to be our boss. Second, she has not only participated in this year’s Great Hunt, she also emerged victorious from it and for her accomplishments and integrety, she was adopted into one of your people’s clans. Clan Lok, to be precise and by Mandalore himself, no less, making her not only worthy of any Mandalorian, but a Mandalorian of her very own and distuingished right. Lastly, you are not only openly and verbally disrespecting our boss, the Champion of the Great Hunt and Mandalore’s Chosen, but you are also insulting her to the face and ears of her significant other and therefore, in your very own interest, Master Warden, I urge you to reconsider finishing that sentence or bear the consequences.”

There was an awkward pause during which Oren asked himself what it might take for Torian and Gault to forget his badly worded slip of the tongue when the sound of a fist hitting flesh echoed throughout the cantina. Oren caught a fleeting glimpse of the Champion tossing what appeared to be one of the frilly man’s bodyguards into a table which seemed to be the cue for everyone else to join into a free-for-all brawl and for Torian to get up and join her side.

“Well aren’t you a lucky man, Master Warden. Saved by the same woman. Twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters displayed in this piece of fiction. I am merely bowering them for the entertainment of my readers and myself with not profit other than (hopefully) personal pleasure in reading and writing being gained by all parties involved. If this piece of fiction is deemed offensive by the legal owners of Star Wars: The Old Republic, their legal representatives or the website administration it shall of course be removed with full apologies extended.


End file.
